Divide
by CaptainReina
Summary: When Sheik was seven, he murdered two men, was diagnosed as a psychopath, and his family had him sent to a mental facility to ride out the rest of his life. At least, that's what the records say. "The rabbit hole goes deeper than you think." Shink. Modern!AU. Rating subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

**Surprise! I've been a Zelda fan since way before I'd ever heard of SnK.**

 **. . . stop letting me start new fics**

.-.-.-.-.

It was dull. The room was dull. Duller than the bedroom of his childhood. Sheik missed that one. He despised the wallpaper as a child, and, ten years later, he still thought it was tacky.

Lately, though, he'd been wishing he could go back to the blue walls with clouds and triangles dotting them. He wanted to go back to those days. He wanted to be a child again. He wanted to go back and avoid that dreadful experience. He wanted to prevent that series of events.

He hated the asylum. Ten years, and he still wasn't used to it. Zelda was wrong. He'd never get used to it.

"I brought takeout," his sister offered gently, holding out the white bag of styrofoam boxes.

Sheik shook his head, not even glancing at it. He was nauseous. He didn't want to eat today.

Zelda sighed softly, and Sheik could imagine her fighting to school her expression, hiding the hurt and portraying understanding. She set the food on his bedside table and sat beside him on the soft sheets, clasping her hands in her lap.

"I'm sorry for not coming for so long," she whispered.

Her twin shrugged.

"Are you angry?"

Sheik shrugged again. It didn't really matter. She wasn't there then. She was here now. He was oddly empty, devoid of any sort of anger or betrayal. Her absence had become a normality. She rarely came anymore.

"Sheik, please talk to me."

"I haven't got anything to say."

"You must have something."

Another shake of the head. Nothing. He rarely spoke anymore. Silence was his friend. It hadn't been at first, but after the screaming matches, the begging, the bargaining, they had come to a compromise, and Sheik learned to enjoy the silence. It had come to the point that when someone spoke too loud he was irritated, refusing to acknowledge them unless they quieted down. He could hear everything in this room - the softest whispers, his own breathing, _their_ breathing, the echoes of their voice just as loud as their speaking, to the point it caused painful confusion.

Frowning, Zelda looked down at her hands. "I've been stuck in all these horrid extra classes from father. Teaching me stupid things like marketing and business, formalities, boring things."

Sheik nodded. They were part of a family of aristocrats, of course - at least, Zelda was. Sheik had long since been disowned, so all the responsibility fell on his sister. She was the inheritor of the Nohansen fortune, the next in line to lead their companies, to attend all those official meetings and make big decisions. Sheik was glad he wasn't part of that, at least. He wasn't a part of anything.

He wasn't important anymore.

He hadn't been important to them since he was diagnosed as a psychopath. He'd never been told why, or even what the symptoms were. All he knew was that his lack of remorse for what he'd done disturbed the adults, and they had him locked up for it.

 _You're an emotionless monster._

That wasn't true. He'd done it out of emotion. Out of fear. Out of care. To protect Zelda. Nobody cared.

"I got some time off today because the instructor has been sick. I had yesterday, too, but I was busy. I'm sorry."

Busy still, even when her obligations were nonexistent. Of course. Sheik knew there were always better things for her to do.

"I . . . "

Zelda wrung her hands nervously. Hesitantly, she grabbed one of Sheik's, forever surprised at how cold they were. He didn't move much, after all.

"I found someone I think can help."

Sheik furrowed his brows. "Help? With what?"

His throat protested at the strain. He never talked this much. That seemed to strengthen Zelda's confidence.

"Sheik, you and I both know what we saw wasn't a result of our overactive imaginations," she said softly.

He couldn't believe his ears. This was the first time she'd ever mentioned it in all his years in the hospital. The first time he'd heard anyone talk about the incident since they questioned him as a child. He shook his head slightly. He made eye contact with his twin, who jumped slightly at the sight of so much emotion on her brother's face. A red flush settled on her cheeks, and she looked away.

"It's so late," he rasped.

"It's never too late, Sheik," Zelda said firmly, quietly. "You know as well as I - "

"You know we can't do anything," Sheik interrupted in a sharp, biting tone, and Zelda flinched. His fingers tangled in the bedsheets, and he struggled not to grind his teeth in frustration. It had been months since he felt anything; years since it was this intense. He didn't know how to cope anymore. "We told them what really happened, and what did it do for us?"

"Sheik - "

"They _locked me up!_ They ended my life before it even started!"

His throat burned from his outburst. He'd have to call in a nurse for some tea.

Zelda's eyes watered. Sheik wished he could feel something else, some guilt, but it had faded all over again. She twisted the hem of her shirt and cleared her throat, fighting back tears.

"I found someone," she repeated, pulling her phone out of her purse, "and I think you should meet him."

"Zelda - "

"I'm going to fix this."

She hit 'send' on the text she'd typed out and waited expectantly. Sheik tried to make eye contact, but Zelda wouldn't look at him. She kept twisting and pulling at her shirt. He thought he saw a tear fall, but he couldn't be sure, because she had turned completely away from him an instant later.

In a few moments, there came the familiar, soft tapping of knuckles on the door. Zelda rubbed her eyes and called out to the visitor.

"Come in. Close the door behind you."

The door opened, and in stepped a man. Short, but a little taller than Sheik, he wore a simple t-shirt and jeans with beat up sneakers. Sheik glanced at Zelda, who was smiling at the man despite her red-rimmed eyes, then back at the stranger. What in the world? She said she'd found someone to help them, but this guy didn't look like he had any experience in - well - _anything._

"I'm Link," the man greeted warmly as he took the other seat beside Sheik's bed. Shaggy blond hair fell to his shoulders, and piercing blue eyes met Sheik's own dull red, the only thing between them a pair of glasses. His smile combated the warmth of the sun, washed away the icy cold of the room.

His voice was entirely too loud.

Sheik covered his ears with a distressed noise, flinching violently. His legs curled up to his chest and he turned away from the man, whose brilliant warmth had turned into blistering heat, and his eyes squeezed shut. Zelda made an excessive shushing motion towards Link, who covered his mouth and nodded abashedly. Zelda ran her fingers through her brother's soft hair and coaxed one of his hands away from his ear.

He loathed Zelda sometimes, but she was familiar, and he found himself relaxing against her. Rather like a small child startled by a nightmare, his fingers grasped at her shirt, matching the indentions she'd made herself earlier, and his eyes fixed on Link as Zelda's fingers continued their rounds through his silky locks.

"It's alright," she cooed. "Link's just a bit of an idiot. Nothing to fear."

Sheik shook his head, eyes slipping shut again. "Just startled," he sighed softly, the first words he'd uttered in Link's presence. The man felt a little awkward in the presence of their bonding, and made to look away.

And then they glowed. It was just a soft sheen, a little glimmer, as though the overhead light was blue and reflecting on them. But it wasn't, and it was more like a sort of radiance, as though they were creating it themselves. Link removed his glasses and wiped them hurriedly on his shirt. When he put them back on, the glow only seemed brighter.

"Well, I'll be damned," he whispered in awe. "You were telling the truth."

And just like that, the light vanished. Zelda nodded, almost triumphant, but Sheik only stared at him, tilting his head, ruby red betraying nothing of his thoughts. Link waited for him to say something, question him, deny something, but nothing came out. He'd forgotten Zelda telling him Sheik didn't talk.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Link brought a suitcase to his lap that Sheik hadn't noticed before. The patient sat up, and Zelda looked a little sad at the loss, but she let her brother's curiosity win.

"Zelda told me about the incident," he said, those cerulean eyes glinting. Link popped open the clasps on the worn leather, and showed the case was full of documents - some yellow and weathered, some brand new with a scrawl that Sheik supposed was Link's own. "I've been researching for years into . . . well . . . that sort of power."

"Power," Sheik repeated blandly. Link nodded sagely.

"And then your sister came to me when I thought I knew everything. I finally found you. The last one."

He looked so excited, and for an instant Sheik was unsure of everything, unsure of this man or his intentions. But the joy on his face was so childish, full of innocent intrigue, and it was almost cute. Link shook his head, a little embarrassed, and cleared his throat again. He held a notebook out to Sheik, locking eyes.

"I've been looking into your case. That attack wasn't random, and it wasn't an attack against your family."

Sheik tilted his head, flipping open the front cover of the notebook. An empty page with the word _Farore_ scrawled in the middle. He glanced back up at Link, who had gone from an excited child to dead serious in seconds.

"The rabbit hole goes deeper than you think."


	2. Chapter 2

Sheik thumbed through the pages. Sketches of women, all in a similar style, with various regal outfits. News clippings and printouts glued to pages, all absolutely ancient, most highlighted. Any page that wasn't scrapbooked was covered in an untidy scrawl. He got a general idea that these things, or people, or whatever, were some kind of ethereal creatures. He didn't really care.

After the page labeled "Farore" was an entire section that filled half the notebook, and after that, a page with "Din" written in the center, with a decent number of pages filled behind it. At the end of that section was a header labeled "Nayru," and there was very little in that section - only a printed article and a few pages of that same messy handwriting.

Some part of Sheik wished he cared enough to ask why, but he really, really did not care. Instead, he politely set the notebook on his nightstand after pretending to have skimmed it (rather than having just stared blankly at the pages).

Zelda and Link were deep in whispered conversation. Sheik could hear them quite clearly, of course. Very little of any noise in the room went unnoticed by him. He simply did not care what they talked about, good grief, he _really_ didn't. Something about the things written and collected in that tattered old notebook. Sheik heard the word "Farore" in a hushed tone, which confirmed his suspicions.

He was getting tired. There was entirely too much noise. Even with the low tones his sister and the detective (if he even _was_ a detective; his ratty clothes made Sheik rather skeptical) were using, the constant buzz of noise was a nuisance, and he felt a headache coming on, his ears already starting to hurt. Sheik wanted them to go away. He wanted them to leave so he could curl up under his blankets and sleep. This was too much noise and human interaction for one day.

Link paused in his hushed tone when he realized Sheik was staring - or rather, glaring quite conspicuously. He wondered if the man could hear the constant mantra of _get out of my room_ that was playing over and over in his head. He really hoped he could, however unlikely it was.

"Have you finished reading already?" Link asked, cerulean blue eyes widening in surprise. Sheik narrowed his own eyes, shaking his head. _No, I didn't read your stupid fairytale scrapbook,_ he wanted to say. Instead, realizing the prolonged visitation had him getting cranky, he remained in judgmental silence.

"He's stubborn," Zelda said apologetically, looking down at her hands, which she was starting to wring anxiously. She did that a lot. She also spoke for Sheik a lot. He did not fancy that. "I . . . I don't expect him to take part in this much."

She shouldn't. Sheik turned away rather petulantly, staring at the wall. He wanted no part of this wild fantasy his sister and this random man were partaking in. He did not know why Link's presence had him feeling so many things, regardless of the fact that none of them were positive. All he knew was that something weird happened the night his childhood and life ended, and that speaking of it landed him here. He did not want anything to do with it. He did not care.

"He hasn't much of a choice," Link muttered.

 _He did not care._ Sheik was going to let them leave and was going to request to his nurse that he never see them again. He was going to spend the rest of his dwindling teenage years, and then his adult life, in this bland white room with the bland white decorations and the bland white-scrubbed nurses. His entire life, free of their fantasy, free of their _nonsense._ His entire life -

"Sheik?" Link's soft voice called to him.

He. . . did not want to spend his entire life here.

"Look at me," the detective crooned quietly.

Sheik relented. Ruby-red met a bright sky once more. Those eyes were so gentle, gentle and yet full of life. Full of life in a way that Sheik had never seen. Not that he got the chance to observe many. Link reached out, hesitated, and then his eyes traveled from Sheik's hand and back to his face in a silent request. Sheik did not know what compelled him to obey, but slowly, he lifted his hand and placed it in Link's. The man smiled, a thousand watt smile that seemed to light up the room with genuine joy, and a soft, startled noise left Zelda's lips. She looked on with wide eyes and a jaw hanging slightly open.

"I know this is a lot," Link began, quiet, slow. It was surprising how quick he had caught on to proper etiquette; most people continued to yell and yell until it made Sheik cry. Something fluttered in his chest. He ignored it. "I'm sorry. But this is really important. I wish I could express to you how crucial it is that you work with me."

Sheik's eyes narrowed at his tone, at the simplicity of his words. He snatched his hand back and crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at the wall once more. He should have known better. Everyone treated him like a child with nothing but basic language comprehension skills. Why would Link be any different?

"Sheik," Zelda tried, imploring, but Sheik interrupted her.

"Explain it to me," he ordered. His voice was strong, demanding, and he startled himself with it, flinching at the way it reverberated in the room and the way his throat protested aggressively.

Silence greeted him, and irritation threatened to grow, but then, miraculously, Link began to talk.

"When I was young, I was bullied," Link said.

Sheik hesitated, but turned to look at him as he spoke. Oddly enough, Zelda was watching him, too. The detective had his forearms resting on his thighs and his fingers linked together, and uncomfortably enough, he was staring right at Sheik. He wanted to look away. He wasn't sure what stopped him. Link continued.

"I guess I wasn't bullied so much as generally got into a lot of trouble. I wasn't exactly innocent in middle school, but I like to think I wasn't the asshole back then." Link's lips split into a self-conscious grin. "I kind of was a little shit. I picked fights, and more often than not, got beat up pretty bad."

Sheik was confused. What did this have to do with anything? He was on the verge of kicking them both out and going back to sleep, but something compelled him to let Link finish, so reluctantly, he kept silent.

"One day, it was . . . bad. I was defending a friend, and got in _way_ over my head." Somehow, that was not surprising. "There had to have been seven or eight of them, off school campus, and let me tell you, I did not have a great track record as far as winning fights. I was sure they were going to kill me. I had accepted my fate.

"And then something . . . happened. There was this warmth. All the anxiety I was feeling from just looking at those kids completely vanished."

Sheik flinched, eyes wide in shock. He met Link's gaze and wanted to be angry at the knowing look he saw there, but he couldn't. This story was _familiar._

"And then there was a voice in my head," Link continued, voice soft, knowing he had won the battle. A battle Sheik had not even realized he had waged. "She was passion. She was courage. She told me, 'teach them a lesson,' and I did."

 _They will not hurt her. They will not hurt you. We will not let them._

"You know."

Link was still quiet, words still soft, and yet triumphant. And he was right. Sheik knew. He _knew._ He knew what Link spoke of, had felt it himself. He had experienced the sensation of calming warmth spreading like the waters of a gently lapping ocean from the terrified thoughts in his head to his numb fingertips, had felt that sweet presence blanket him and erase his fear, had heard that soothing voice that oozed with reassuring confidence.

He knew. He had known it that night, and he had never known it again.

"I know," Sheik repeated, bewildered, overwhelmed. Link reached forward and patted his hand.

"I know," he said, an odd sort of gut-wrenching sympathy in his voice, and that only confused Sheik more. "I won the fight. She was Farore. She loved me." His smile was so fond, so full of affection. "I love her."

What was Sheik supposed to do? Was he expected to say something? He had absolutely no idea what he even could do or say in this situation. This was madness. He wanted to tell Link so, but he could not. He could not sit there and be the pot calling the kettle black. Not when he knew exactly what Link spoke of. Not when he had experienced it himself.

"Who . . . who was she?" he asked, voice trembling with both uncertainty and the effort of speaking once more. He wanted to clarify. He didn't care about Farore; his vague interest was not enough to pursue the topic. Who was she? Who spoke to Sheik? Who protected them?

Link seemed to understand, though he squinted ever so slightly at Sheik, looking slightly baffled. "Does she not still speak to you?" he questioned in return. It was Sheik's turn to look confused. He shook his head. "It must have something to do with . . . well. I'll explain that later." His smile returned, and Sheik allowed himself to forget the concern that spiked at the detective's uncertainty. "I believe she is Nayru."

Nayru. Sheik remembered the name written in sky blue ink, remembered how little information Link had on her. How did he know it was her, then?

"Should she be talking to us?" It was the first time in a long time that Zelda had spoken, her eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed in the way that Sheik knew meant she was thinking hard. "I - _we_ \- haven't heard her voice since that night."

"Farore never shuts up," Link told her, sounding amused. He sobered a little, rubbing at his chin in thought. "I have theories. I'll keep them quiet until I'm more certain about them. What really worries me is that she only manifests when you two are together."

"Is that it?" Sheik interrupted.

Both of them stared at him as if he'd grown another head - what did he mean, was that it? they had just discovered that the twins held an unknown magic inside them, brought on by some kind of creature or deity - but he was serious. All Link had done was validate that yeah, something beyond what the police believed happened that night. Okay, big deal. How did it even matter? Nothing had happened since. He had some lady in his head, and for what? What good had it done him?

"What's the point of knowing all this?" he clarified, getting annoyed at Link's lack of response. The fascination and shock that had kept him alert for the past few minutes was beginning to fade, and he was beginning to feel irritable. He was a fool to think any of this meant anything.

Link looked slightly troubled when he interrupted Sheik's thoughts with a single word. "Ganondorf Dragmire."

Not a word, a name. A name Sheik vaguely recognized, some very distant part of his memory tugging familiarly, but he could not put his finger on it. Surprisingly, Zelda filled him in.

"Our parents had business with him," she explained. "He's a government official with his toes dipped in the military manufacturing pool. He's monopolized the industry, and supplies most of the military's resources."

Link nodded as Sheik took the information as truth, not noticing any part of his memory trying to reject the facts Zelda game him, though something told him that it was not everything, as Link seemed so grave. His voice was so quiet when he spoke next that Sheik could see Zelda leaning in close to listen. At this point, he was sure Zelda had already heard all of this - who knew how much they had talked without Sheik - but it seemed far too important to sit out of.

"He has Din," Link said simply, and for reasons Sheik could not comprehend, a dark chill overwhelmed him. Subconsciously, he reached out, and Zelda took his hand. He could not fathom the feeling, but he did not like it one bit. "He has her and he isn't satisfied with her."

Din, written in red ink. The strong sense of dread that accompanied the news, somehow, Sheik felt, wasn't his own. He was not satisfied with Din? Did that mean he wanted the others, too?

Suddenly, Sheik felt tired. He did not want this. He would not have accepted this little meeting if he had known what he would be told. Something told him that now, a great responsibility had fallen on his shoulders, and he did not want it in the slightest. Couldn't someone else take his place? Someone who had not spent their entire lives like him? Could Zelda not simply go on without him? He may not have liked the hospital much, but he feared what would come now.

Swallowing, he asked, "What now?"

Link had no answer for several moments. He stood without warning, placing his hands on his hips and speaking determinedly. "First thing's first: we get you out of this place."

"And then?" Zelda sounded almost as scared as Sheik felt, and her hand tightened on his.

"And then," Link responded, fire flashing in those stunningly blue eyes, "we go after Ganondorf."


	3. Chapter 3

**so so so so sorry for the delay ! sorkari is here for the rest of June and hoooo boy is this kid one hell of a distraction**

 **he cute tho so its okay**

 **long(er) chapter as an apology!**

.-.-.-.-.

His window was open, a soft breeze coming through, the twittering of birds reaching his ears along with the soft, distant noise of the highway. Sheik did not like having the window open. Exposure to the world meant noise, too much noise. He did not want it. He never wanted it. Freedom was appealing, but the things that came with it? He did not want to go out there again if it meant all that. It . . . it scared him.

A soft click, and Sheik's head turned to the door. It opened slowly, as if not to startle him, and in came Link. He was surprised at the lack of sister; usually Zelda was the one to show without warning, and Link had never come alone before. The man offered a small wave before coming to sit by Sheik's bed.

"It's mostly settled," Link said quietly, resting one of his ankles on the opposite knee and leaning back in the chair. "We're getting you out of here soon."

Sheik inclined his head in understanding. When he had realized Link would not leave when he simply refused to acknowledge him, he had finally relented and started to participate in conversation, even if it was nonverbal. He would not lie and say he had not grown a little attached in the process. Link was a fast learner as to Sheik's boundaries and had not made him uncomfortable since their first meeting. It was rare - unheard of, really - to find someone like that. People never really cared about the patients in the ward.

"There were some complications," Link continued. Sheik cocked his head at that, and Link waved his hands dismissively. "They're not a big deal. We're getting you out."

"Tell me."

Sheik stared expectantly at the detective. Link opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again after a moment, shaken by the suddenness of him speaking. On the rare occasion that Sheik actually said something, it seemed Link could not deny him. "The nurses don't think you'll adjust well. They were reluctant to release you, and I had to bring in higher authority. You're crucial to the case, so they had to release you."

They were right, Sheik wanted to say, glancing briefly over to the window. If so little noise was such a nuisance to him, how was he going to handle the real world? They were taking him out of captivity so suddenly, without any warning. There was no time for an adjustment period, no therapy sessions. Going outside for the first time in a decade was not going to be kind to him.

"What else?" Sheik asked, and Link looked away, staring out the window. It was a stunning view of the brick wall next door. Anxiety rose at Link's hesitance.

"It was a fight with your parents." Sheik's blood ran cold at the mention, and subconsciously he closed his hands into fists, grasping his sheets tightly. "They claimed control over your well being. It was hard, since you're technically still a minor, and they're legally in charge of what happens to you. It took a court order to transfer you to my care."

His parents. He had not seen them once since his admission. The last he saw of them, they were signing the paperwork to throw him in. _It's for your own good - your sister's good_. They just wanted to get rid of the little murderer tarnishing their reputation. They didn't give two shits about him, and certainly not about Zelda.

"I'm sorry if that's hard for you," Link said in a hushed tone, looking down at his lap. He looked like a scolded puppy. Sheik wanted to reach out and lift his chin up, but refrained from doing so.

"Thank you," he heard himself saying, and he wanted to be embarrassed at the lack of control, but he _was_ thankful. He was some semblance of happy, knowing he would not be attached to them anymore. Knowing Link had pulled him away from them was . . . liberating. Exciting? It had been so long since he felt such fluttering in his chest that he could not identify it.

"Thank you . . . ?" Link repeated dumbly, looking up from his entwined fingers to stare at Sheik. Sheik only nodded.

"Thank you."

"I . . . no problem."

Were Link's cheeks a little pink? He cleared his throat and scratched at his neck, quiet for a moment. Sheik wondered what exactly had flustered him so.

"There's also the big guy," Link continued, sobering a little. "Ganondorf." Sheik tilted his head in silent question, and Link shook his own. "Your parents . . . I wonder if they would have even bothered to stop us if he hadn't raised such a fuss. He came into the station while I was negotiating and tried to butt in."

"Why?"

"I can only really guess. He wanted you to stay here, but why? I don't know yet." He let out a weary sigh. "Ganondorf . . . I don't know if he knows who I am. He knows I'm onto him, though. How much he knows that I know is still a mystery. Though if he's trying to prevent me from taking you out of this place, well - he's onto me, too."

"But why does he want me here?" Sheik's throat was starting to complain. It was strange, talking this much, but he wanted answers. He wanted no part of any of this, really; freedom was not worth the price of this mad game of cat and mouse he was getting into, but if he was forced to deal with it, he wanted to know everything.

Link looked at a loss, and Sheik knew he did not have an answer. "I don't know. If he knew you had a goddess, would he really lock you here where he couldn't get to you? Does he know Nayru is attached to you both? Does he think it's just Zelda and want to keep you out of the way?"

Link sighed, dry washing his face, and Sheik had the decency to give him privacy with his distress, turning to stare once more at the dirty brick outside. The birds were annoying, harsh, their chirps much too sharp and grating on his ears.

"Sorry. I don't really know anything. I'll bother Farore some more about it later."

Link's voice was much nicer than the birds' screeching. He was quiet, gentle, but he was not like the nurses that spoke to Sheik like a child. He included Sheik. That was such a rarity that Sheik no longer knew how to properly partake in conversation, and had to reteach himself in a hurry. Link was patient with him even then. When Sheik did not know what to say, Link spoke enough for the both of them, and for once, the patient did not mind the noise.

"Can you tell me more about them?" Link just looked so concerned and troubled, and Sheik was curious to know more, anyways. If he was getting into this mess, he may as well learn everything there was to know.

Link straightened up slightly, meeting Sheik's eyes, eyebrows raised in surprise. They lowered once more, and, from seemingly nowhere, out came the tattered old notebook. Did he carry that everywhere?

"Are you sure?" Link asked, though it did not seem to matter what Sheik answered as the detective flipped open the cover. "I won't make you listen if you're not interested, but - "

"I am," Sheik interrupted before he could start rambling. There was a flash of a small, almost shy smile, and Link looked back down at his notebook.

"What do you want to know?"

"Start at the beginning."

His throat was getting quite sore at this point, so he was glad when Link shifted in his chair to get comfortable and began to speak. Sensing a long talk, he repositioned as well, crossing his legs under the sheets and clasping his hands in his lap.

"There's a beginning to everything, yeah? Well, the beginning for us was . . . them."

There were practically stars in his eyes. Sheik wondered how anyone could be so entranced by a fairy tale at his age, but supposed there was an exception when said stories literally came to life.

"Have you ever wondered if there's more than us out there?" Sheik could not tell if the question was rhetorical. Thankfully, Link continued to speak. He was looking beyond Sheik, beyond the white walls, somewhere far away. "Not just our planet, our solar system, our galaxy, even the _universe,_ but other worlds, other realities? Places that could be just like ours, or ones where our impossibilities are possible?"

He was smiling so big, so excited that Sheik wanted to say yes. Instead, hesitantly, he shook his head. Link deflated a little and his smile shrunk into something akin to embarrassed. Sheik regretted the motion.

"Oh. Well . . . maybe just me. But what if I told you places like that existed?" The gusto was back, words spoken with fervor. "Maybe not like that - I don't really understand much about them. But we weren't the first world the Goddesses created, and I'm sure we weren't the last."

Multiple worlds? It was difficult not to believe in the beings themselves, having been harboring one (half of one?) himself, but how could such lore die? Sheik was not so certain of the validity of the story. Still, he allowed Link to continue without comment.

"I don't really what compelled them to make more. Farore has tried to explain it, but I don't really get it. I guess deities just see things differently."

He paused, then made a face. Sheik was taken aback a second, and then, with a small jolt, wondered if Farore had spoken up. He remembered the way that ethereal voice echoed in his mind all those years ago and shivered.

"Din created the land, Farore the life, and Nayru the laws that life would adhere to. They stayed a short time, lending the new life their abilities, aiding them in adjustment and seeing to it that all their needs were met. After deciding their new world would function well without them, they left to return to . . . well . . . wherever it is they go when they're not here. Their own world? The heavens? I haven't gotten that out of them yet."

Link went quiet, and Sheik took the opportunity to prompt him further.

"What about us? About . . . this? Possession thing?"

Link wrinkled his nose. "Don't call it that," he said. Sheik had a strong feeling that Farore was backing him on that one. "They inhabit our bodies, but they don't take over. They're like roommates."

"Okay," Sheik said slowly. "Why?"

"I was getting there."

Sheik refrained from letting out a disgruntled noise; Link spoke as if he had not completely stopped his story before. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard and gestured for the other to continue the tale. Link obliged far too happily.

"After the Goddesses left, they found that their creations struggled. Among Nayru's laws were basics about how our world functions - things like physics. There was nothing on how to govern themselves or function as a society, and they struggled to elect leaders that were not their creators. After much pleading from their children, the Goddesses allowed a compromise.

"Each chose a child to bond with - Din picked natural born leaders, the noble and powerful. Nayru was drawn to the strongest of minds, those whose intelligence and wit could place them far above any physical prowess. Farore sought out those with pure hearts and unwavering determination, who would lay down their life to protect others.

"They taught these individuals all they knew, and they ruled together as peacefully as they knew how. If ever there was trouble, they had only to call upon their mothers, and they could tap into power like nothing their kind could ever recreate. Their powers were all different in brand, but as a whole they are known as the Triforce. Those lost creations found guidance this way, and for ages they thrived with the Goddesses' blessing.

"Generations came and went, eons passed, and without fail, the Goddesses continued to pick their chosen ones. Yet as time passed and life evolved into what we know as humanity, the need for them faded. With the need, the lore slowly disappeared into the background, a fairy tale to children, and then it vanished altogether."

Sheik had remained in silence the entire time, simply letting Link speak and attempting to envision the things he spoke of. The struggle to do so elicited the realization that his imagination was getting a little rusty.

"Why are they still doing it?" he piped up finally, and Link's smile shifted into something solemn, the corners of his mouth dragging a little.

"Just in case we need them again. Like we do now."

Sheik would not have to imagine for long. Soon, he would be a free man.

 _Man._ He scoffed internally at the thought. Sheik was no man. He was a child, sheltered and stowed away in a little bubble, hidden from the horrors of society. For all he knew, the outside world was a wasteland. Where was he going? What awaited him outside the hospital doors? A place where unseen beings possessed people and a big scary man was out to get him and his sister and probably murder them?

The sweet sort of calm that had blanketed the room during Link's visit was not enough to stifle the panic that the thought of Ganondorf brought. Sheik grasped fistfuls of the sheets, trying hard not to let the feeling rise too high in his chest. Too high, and it would hit his throat, escape his mouth as a betraying noise.

"Why are you reopening the case?"

Link's eyes widened the smallest bit.

"I'm sorry?"

"Why?" Sheik repeated, a little louder this time, and it was both satisfying and terrifying to see Link flinch at the force of it. He ignored his throat's protesting. "I'm safe here, and Ganondorf hasn't gotten to you or Zelda in the past ten years."

His voice was starting to rasp. He should really stop talking.

Taken aback, Link ran a nervous thumb over the cover of his notebook, and it took him so long to respond that Sheik became sure he was not going to. When he did, his voice was quiet, sad. Sheik regretted raising his voice at the man.

"It's bigger than you or me, Sheik," he said. "So much bigger."

Of course it was. Goddesses that created the entire damn universe, magic and mysteries from years past, and a man who wanted to slit Sheik's throat and claim everything for himself. Who knew what Ganondorf would do with that kind of power? Sheik did not want to know.

"I don't want to do this," he whispered, and he did not know whether his voice shook from exertion or fear. He jumped when a hand that was not his own came into view, hesitating before resting against his wrist. Sheik hesitated before finally his eyes moved along the sun-kissed forearm, the bicep, shoulder, neck, face. Eyes. Soft and caring and . . .

"I won't let anything happen to you."

It was Link's voice, gentle yet firm as always, just the way Sheik remembered. And yet it was not Link - it was not something he heard, but something he _felt,_ something both deep in his heart and mind, warm, echoing, and oh so brief. A voice, a _presence_ that felt like forests and a warm spring breeze and a gentle lullaby.

Ruby eyes Sheik did not know he closed shot open, and an instant glance at Link saw a calm, determined expression so starkly different from his own shock and confusion that it was extra disorienting.

"Who . . . what?" he managed. Link ran a soothing thumb over Sheik's wrist, and Sheik let him without fuss.

"Farore," the detective answered.

A shiver, but warm. Familiarity. Something deep in his heart, his gut? Stirring.

"I trust you," Sheik said.

Whether he spoke of Link or Farore, he did not know and did not care.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Once you're eighteen, we can get you out of here, one hundred percent."_

Sheik did not remember when Link told him that. Was it even Link? It was probably Link. Everything was so muddled, blurring together like someone had swiped a brush across a wet painting. He could not focus on the adults talking right in front of him - he was an adult now, wasn't he? - or the paperwork he signed with shaking hands. Instead, he was hyperfocused on the beating of his heart, on the bright light outside, on the cars zooming past the window, on the fact that he had not stepped into the hospital's lobby in . . . how long? In so long that he did not know the answer to that.

The red flannel he wore was so soft and loose that it was too much. Where was the scratchy, uncomfortable cotton and wool of the hospital clothes? The jeans were far too restricting - he felt like he could not move and, if some threat were to appear, he would be unsuccessful in escaping. Not that he thought he could run, anyways; his legs ached from standing so much, and he felt like a toddler who had just learned to walk. Being bedridden did that to you, he supposed in a fleeting moment of clarity.

In front of him, he watched Zelda sign the paperwork in pretty, looping cursive. Link followed suit with a small, scrawling signature. The patient, a family member, and the new caretaker. His sister turned to him with a small smile that betrayed her hesitance.

"Happy birthday, Sheik," he dimly registered her saying as Link also offered him a smile, albeit his was far more confident than hers.

Happy birthday? Surely, they had to be joking. He was not happy. He was nervous, he was scared, he wanted to crawl back to his room and under his thin sheets and hide for the rest of his life. This was not a happy occasion. It was terrifying.

"Thanks," he tried to say. It did not come out that way. Link smiled and clapped him gently on the shoulder anyway.

The doctor before them was practically featureless. Sheik was sure the woman had her own life, maybe a spouse, kids, her own goals and troubles, but he did not care. She was nothing in the long run, just another of the medical staff there to suppress him and take his life. She also signed the paperwork, and Sheik watched as she handed Link a slip of paper and a bottle of pills, carefully explaining their dosage instructions and refills. It was nothing but a faint hum in Sheik's ears.

Finally, after what felt both like an eternity and mere seconds, they were leaving. It felt strange, heading out with no personal belongings, but Sheik truly owned nothing. He had not bothered with them since he was perhaps ten.

He fought hard to keep his breathing even as they approached the doors, his heart racing like a frightened rabbit's. He knew he was visibly shaking now and that his wide eyes betrayed his anxiety. Zelda offered her hand, and he clutched onto it for dear life, not caring how their fingers were awkwardly squished together and ignoring Zelda's attempt to fix it.

There it was. Outside. When he was little, he had often dreamed of going out there. Sheik longed to join the fellow young patients in playing hopscotch, or playing tag, or climbing trees, or . . . or _anything._ Anything but sitting in his room all day. Now, he would give anything to go back to the safety of that white box.

Sheik tried and failed to take a deep breath. He had to do this. He had no choice, now. He had signed himself over. Even in freedom, he had no control over his fate.

Link opened the door for them, and Zelda carefully led the way outside. With each step Sheik's legs were more reluctant and his breathing grew shorter.

He was outside, and it was absolutely deafening.

The breeze was louder than he knew it should be, as if someone was directly blowing into his ears. The birds did not twitter, but screeched, a harsh cacophony rather than a song. A car blew past them on the street in front of them. The force of it nearly bowled him over, and everything disappeared for a second, sheer terror eliciting a pathetic noise, and when he came back to he was clinging to his sister for dear life.

"Sheik?"

He barely heard it over the noise. He tried to respond, tried to plead to go back inside, but all that came out was a low, pitiful whimper. He could not breathe. He could not see, his vision swimming with tears. He could barely feel Link's hands on his shoulders.

But he could hear, goddesses, he could _hear._ He could hear and he wished he could not. He wished hearing was as hard as speaking. His lips and tongue refused to form words. As hard as breathing. His lungs felt like they were about to collapse. As hard as keeping upright. His knees gave way in an instant. As hard as holding his eyes open . . .

The last thing he heard, so loud it made his head ache, was a pair of concerned voices shouting his name, and then everything faded into a comfortable silence.

.-.-.-.-.

Sheik's mouth was dry like cotton when he awoke, his head pounding and stomach twisting unpleasantly. The world was quiet, though, and for that he was thankful. Something was stuffed in his ears - little buds, likely responsible for the calming silence.

It took him a moment to register he was in the back seat of a car. In front of him were Zelda, sleeping in the passenger seat, and Link, bobbing his head to a tune Sheik could not hear as his fingers tapped the steering wheel. Sheik sat up, and Link noticed the movement, looking into the rear view mirror for a brief moment. He reached for the car radio and Sheik watched as the display showed rapidly descending numbers that eventually reached "00." With one hand, Link motioned to his ear, and Sheik understood. Hesitantly, he reached up and plucked one of the small buds from his ear.

The hum of the car was a little annoying, but it was quiet, something Sheik wondered if he could ignore in the future. He could hear very little of anything outside of the car. A glance outside showed him grassy plains as far as the eye could see, a stark contrast to the cityscape he was used to, and he looked back at Link with eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"How are you feeling?" Link asked before Sheik could voice his question, and in an instant Sheik remembered his nausea. He grimaced.

"Sick," he answered. Nodding knowingly, Link reached across Zelda to the glove compartment and took out a bottle of pills. They were not Sheik's prescription. He handed the pills and a bottle of water from a cupholder up front to Sheik.

"Take two of these. It'll help." He glanced into the rear view mirror and, noticing Sheik's hesitance, added, "Dramamine. Motion sickness medicine."

Obediently, Sheik shook two of the capsules into his hand and downed them with a single gulp of water with practiced ease. He offered the bottle back, but Link shook his head.

"Keep it. You need to hydrate."

"Did you know?" Sheik questioned, curious. Link had a new-looking bottle prepared for him, as though he expected Sheik's answer. "That I'd feel sick?"

Link shrugged, then nodded after a moment. "It's been ten years since you were in a car, Sheik," he said, voice light, almost amused. "I'd be surprised if it _didn't_ make you sick. I picked up some stuff just in case."

He had a point. Sheik had not even thought about that sort of thing when contemplating his release. It was an aggravating reminder of how unprepared he was for the real world.

"Where are we going?" He banished that train of thought in an instant. He'd had ten years for self reflection, including self hatred. He had long learned that there were far better thoughts to waste time on.

"I had to get you away from the city," Link replied, not exactly answering the question. That was remedied a moment later. "My grandmother owns land out here. It's about two hours from the city." Two hours? Sheik must not have been out for long, then. "It'll be inconvenient for work, but better for you, I think."

It took a moment to process, but then -

"I'll be staying with you?"

Sheik did not know whether he was intrigued or concerned. He already knew Zelda could not live anywhere else but the college dorm their parents paid for, so of course she would not be there for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had already known he would be staying with Link - it was the logical conclusion. Still, the idea of being so far from the city, from help, with someone he barely knew . . . it was only logical to be worried, right?

"And Gran, of course. Is that . . . " Link hesitated. "Is that a problem?"

For some reason, it was not any worse than mild concern. He did not think he trusted Link that much, but the lack of panic in his chest disagreed.

"No," he said. Even if it were a problem, there was not much else to be done.

Link did not say anything after that, and Sheik turned to look out the window. Grassland moved past faster than he could pick out details. Many fields were full of cows, varying shades of brown and black, grazing or sunbathing in the pleasant spring air. The sky was a gorgeous blue that Sheik had never seen in his life - or at least did not remember - rivaling that of his sister's. There were clouds, but not the gray, gloomy ones of the city. These ones were white, pure, thin streaks across the sky, barely even clouds.

Admittedly, it was stunning. Sheik almost wished it elicited more emotion in him.

His eyelids started to droop. Was it the medicine? He fought to stay awake, but Link's voice soothed him.

"It's alright. I'll wake you up when we get there."

That was enough for Sheik. Shoving the earbud back in, he laid down across the back seat, and quietly drifted off once more.


End file.
